Being one of the people who loves ‘special’ days (read birthdays, anniversaries, et al), I am understandably happy on my birthday. And I am blessed that everyone around me goes out of their way to ensure that it is extra special even if they believe that every day must be considered special and lived fully. No quarrel with that philosophy but it is not for me. At this point in life, I am well aware of my strengths and some of my limitations – being stoic is not for me. And I have tried – from counting backward from one hundred thousand (yes!) and sitting on my hands when angry; and reading ‘The Art of Happiness’* by Dalai Lama and watching Gilmore Girls or Schitts’ Creek when sad, among other things. But as I often explain to my dear husband, just like the earth is 71% water and people inland don’t know it, I am mostly made of emotions. One old friend wished me today, ‘…be too much always.’ The middle path is not for me. But the two men trying their best to improve me believe too much in their powers and soldier on.

And talking of men and women! While talking to me, one friend passed the phone to her husband to wish me. I can hear my daughter mouthing ‘emotional labor!’ The poor man, just out of his shower, getting ready to go to work, said hello and then on the prompting from behind asked haplessly, ‘Whose birthday is it – yours or mine?!’ That it made me laugh much should speak of my maturity. I did not think it to be a coincidence when my uncle posted ‘Old Age’ funnies on the family group where everybody was posting their wishes for me. The same uncle’s teasing drove me crazy when I was a child. He would insinuate that I had no nose. The irony was that I had too much of it – my pride was hurt every time. While my nose has not grown much, my ability to deal with witticisms and criticism has improved somewhat. You still don’t want to test it.

Becoming older is a privilege, I maintain. And life gets to be more fun even though many of my bones have started becoming rather vociferous. Every year, I shed some of the baggage that I have been preconditioned to carry. While the needle on the weighing machine does not budge, I definitely feel lighter. The pressure to be and behave a certain way has reduced considerably; mostly because I am happy with myself the way I am. The children have grown up and whatever damage I could cause there is done. I understand that it is important to behave well because you never know who you are inspiring. Quoting another smart woman: If you cannot be a good example, be a shocking warning!

*I have never read the entire book. I only get to the 4th chapter or so by which time I have regained my composure.